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always, i have been deemed as a stereotypical good girl muslim pakistani girl.
mama entered heaven when i was of a tender age. she never really gave me time to be sorrowful as i was left with many responsibilities over the house and taking care of my working father. i barely finished school before we moved to chester. it was settled that most likely i wasn't going to complete my degree. but then my father retired.
he gave me one shot of going to college.
one chance to be allowed to learn, to study in an actual school building (not home-schooling), to experience friendship and disloyalty one last time. one chance to prove not only to myself but to my austere father that i was capable of being an independent and strong girl, a woman. my father warned me he would pull me back out. he set my boundaries and limitations if i wanted to pursue education in an university, if i wanted to live in a dorm by myself. at that point i was desperate to justify my existence to what i hoped it was.
pray; eat; read the Quran; don't deplete by making useless associations with society; no partying; no shopping; don't let the sand in the hourglass tick by as i laughed; and to work to the best of my abilities.
my instructions were crystal clear.
for months they had been applied. for months i obeyed my father. for months i followed in his command like a soldier would listen to his officer.
then things changed.
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the lower case is intended. hope you liked it, you guys. comment what you thought.
Love, starlightyoong
YOU ARE READING
afaaf
Historia Corta•Completed• "i'm sorry. it's not pity that i'm showing you, it's a goodbye to someone very special to me." Amna's life has been turned upside down and she is writing it all out as she buries the anguish burning inside her.
